


Yes, Really

by vienn_peridot



Series: Eta Carinae 230 [5]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Culture, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Face-Sitting, I Don't Even Know, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Other, Polyamory, References to Ratch/Megs + Dratchet + Drift/PercyRung, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:49:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6281614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienn_peridot/pseuds/vienn_peridot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Drift and Ratchet return to the Lost Light they are welcomed back into the altered Cohort.<br/>This is how Ratchet and Rodimus renew their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes, Really

**Author's Note:**

> This is 110% self-indulgent bollox and I make no apologies.

With Perceptor and Rung having kidnapped Drift for the evening and the Medbay in Velocity’s capable hands Ratchet had nothing to provide an excuse to get out of his own potentially awkward evening. He’d already become acquainted with the extremely unexpected addition to their command staff and the Second in Command was currently on duty

_Probably watching the hall cameras and thinking about sending me a hurry-up comm._

Cycling his vents, Ratchet squared his shoulders and pinged Rodimus with a request for entry to his quarters. They opened before half a minute passed and a nervous-looking speedster invited him in with a courteous phrase he’d obviously been rehearsing. He was offered a seat and a drink with equal formality, Rodimus’ manner starkly changed from the way he had chafed at the formalities the first time Ratchet had visited these quarters.

Making the appropriate responses, Ratchet sat and accepted a cube of lightly spiced mid-grade and sipped, appreciating the flavour while he waited for Rodimus to break the silence.

“So how bad was he?” Rodimus asked in a low voice, his Field subdued as he fiddled with his cube.

“That mech is pathologically incapable of looking after himself.” Ratchet groaned, recalling the almost horrific number carelessly patched and welded injuries Drift had been hiding under scuffed and dented armour, sending Rodimus a quick run-down over short-range comms. “If he _ever_ tries something like that again we’re sending a babysitter with him or I’m going to weld you both to the prow of this ship as a monument to reckless stupidity.”

“What?!” Rodimus sounded shocked. “Come on, we’re not _that_ bad!”

Ratchet snorted humourlessly through his vents, raising an optical ridge at Rodimus. “You had Magnus and Megatron here to keep an eye on you. That idiot was charging around by himself with nobody to glue him to a berth when he needed to rest. Speaking of Megatron…”

Shaking his helm, Rodimus dragged a hand over his faceplates and downed the rest of his cube in one long swallow. The grimace on his faceplates couldn’t be from what they were drinking, as it was one of the nicest things Ratchet had tasted recently. And that was including Swerve’s ‘Welcome Home’ cocktails.

“I really _don’t_ want to talk about Megatron right now.” Rodimus said wearily. “That Co-Captain stunt of Optimus’ was low. If he thinks I’m going to accept him as Cohort because of it he’s got another thing coming.”

Ratchet wasn’t sure if the speedster was referring to Optimus or Megatron and he didn’t want to ask. He remembered Megatron’s glossa in his valve and suppressed a shiver.

_Optimus better fragging well know what he’s doing, messing with a Prime Cohort like this._

“So what do you want to talk about?” Ratchet asked, finishing his own cube while Rodimus stared moodily at the floor between his pedes. “Or were you thinking something less verbal and more physical?”

Rodimus’ helm jerked up, blue optics locking onto Ratchet as shock and astonishment rippled through his Field.

“You still want to?” He asked, “I mean, I _would_ understand if you didn’t want to renew ties with me, after… after everything that’s happened.”

 _After letting Megatron jump my struts, amongst other things_.

He couldn’t help the frustrated gust of air that left his vents, letting Rodimus feel his exasperation as he leaned over and tipped the younger mech’s chin up, forcing Rodimus to look at him.

“Do you remember what I said that time, after Overlord?”

Rodimus nodded.

“I still mean it.”

“Really?”

Ratchet was about to snap something sarcastic when the vulnerable tone registered.

“Yes, _really_.”

That shy, grateful smile was something precious and Ratchet wondered what he’d done to deserve it. Rodimus’ Field was full of thanks as he ducked his helm and pressed a light kiss to Ratchet’s knuckles, making the medic shiver.

“So what do you want to do tonight?” Ratchet asked quietly.

“I don’t mind. I really just want to be near you, feel you feeling good.” Rodimus said, looking up at Ratchet from under his spiky helm kibble. “That’s it, really. Got any suggestions?”

“Hmmm.” Ratchet turned his hand so that he could run his thumb over Rodimus’ cheekstruts, feeling the way the speedster’s EM Field clung to his. “How about I get you on your back and ride your spike until you can’t keep it up anymore?”

That got him a genuine grin and a flash of amusement. They both knew Drift’s preferences in berth far too well.

“Haven’t been in charge much, lately?” Rodimus asked cheekily, sliding into Ratchet’s lap and straddling the strong red thighs. “I think I can go with that. So long as you kiss me first.”

“Deal.” Ratchet’s voice was low and husky as Rodimus brought their lips together.

 

## ~V~V~V~

 

Rodimus couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped his vocaliser as he felt Ratchet’s mouth and Field open to welcome him in. Despite the medic’s reassurances he hadn’t quite believed that he would still be wanted.

Especially since Ratchet had gone to Megatron first.

Pushing thoughts of the supposedly reformed warlord aside Rodimus focused on the mech beneath him, Ratchet’s cooling fans activating as they relearned the taste and texture of each other’s lips and glossas. Ratchet’s hands rose to his waist, stroking sensitive seams and biolights and pulling low sounds of delight from Rodimus as he took Ratchet’s face in his hands and kissed him until it felt like they’d both combust right there in the chair.

_I’ve missed this._

He found himself grinding against Ratchet and didn’t care, swallowing the low groans of pleasure it earned him as if

“Move this to the berth?” Rodimus asked when Ratchet pushed him away, gasping for cool air and nodding when he processed what Rodimus had just said.

“Hold on, Speed Racer.”

Knowing what was coming, Rodimus obeyed and balanced easily with the medic as Ratchet stood, carrying him effortlessly though to the berthroom and throwing the smaller mech at the berth where he landed with a bounce.

“Primus, didn’t know you were _that_ desperate to ride my spike.” Rodimus laughed as Ratchet approached. The medic’s armour was already open and Rodimus could clearly see lubricant dribbling down the inside of the medic’s thighs. The sight made his entire array burn with lust. “I promise I won’t tell Drift.”

It was playful teasing and they both knew it but Ratchet still glared.

“Shut up and open up, brat.” The medic growled, sliding onto the berth and crawling up Rodimus’ sprawled frame. His Field was a hot wave of desire as he rubbed the wet folds of his valve across the hot armour covering Rodimus’ spike. “I don’t want to hear anything out of you not related to being fragged through the berth.”

“Yes Sir.” Rodimus retorted and allowed his armour to open, his spike pressurising at an angle against Ratchet’s external folds so it slid across both the medic’s sensory nubs.

Their engines growled in harmony as Ratchet started to grind along Rodimus’ shaft, coming down to kiss him as the movement of his hips became deliberate slides. Rodimus’ spike throbbed with desperation but he was happy to let Ratchet keep going, so long as he kept getting kissed like that. Like he was being savoured and devoured at the same time, lips and glossa moving in a dance of mutual pleasure and not a battle for conquest. He rolled his hips and stroked the tyres hiding in ratchet’s shoulders and sighed, losing himself in Ratchet.

 _He really_ is _the best kisser in the cohort._

By the time Ratchet rose up and allowed Rodimus’ spike to nudge into his opening the speedster was so worked up it was all he could do not to overload when Ratchet slammed his hips down, taking his entire length in one swift movement. The medic had no inhibitions, grinding his hips in small circles and growling into Rodimus’ mouth as he overloaded. Rodimus managed to hold off just long enough for Ratchet to start moving, shouting and trying to thrust up into the heavy white-and-red frame as his spike jerked and emptied into Ratchet’s passage, adding his own fluids to the copious amounts of lubricant the medic was producing.

Time blurred after that as Ratchet did his level best to frag Rodimus through the berth, riding him with determined, powerful movements that only paused for his own overloads. The speedster loved every second of it; loved that he was still wanted, loved the way Ratchet knew what he wanted and was willing to take as much as Rodimus would give. What he especially loved was how Ratchet’s Field felt during overload, washing over and through him in a way he had been secretly terrified he’d never feel again.

Eventually Ratchet achieved his goal. Rodimus overloaded and his spike softened within the medic’s passage. Not even the deliciously talented flexing of Ratchet’s callipers could entice him to repressurise again. Rodimus groaned as Ratchet climbed off him, exhausted and cursing the limitations of his frame as he saw Ratchet’s spike still proudly erect, bobbing with his movements.

_I couldn’t even move to let him spike me right now._

“Oh you’re _gorgeous_.” Ratchet crooned, stroking flared red-and-gold plating with reverent fingers. “Absolutely gorgeous like this.”

Rodimus was sprawled on the berth, vents opened to maximum. His spike was completely limp, currently too overused to even withdraw into its housing.

_Ratch’ll look at it later if it doesn’t autoretract when I cool down a bit._

“Look who’s talking” Rodimus gasped. “You’re like sex on wheels. How are you even still going? You’ve overloaded just as much as I have.”

The evidence was everywhere by this point. Silver streams all over Rodimus’ abdominal plating, the speedsters’ pelvic armour and thighs covered in lubricant from both of their arrays. However, where Rodimus’ frame needed a rest Ratchet was still ready to go, spike hard and standing clear of his array, valve still demanding attention with bright biolights and cushioning folds swollen and ready despite the way he’d just ridden the speedster into exhaustion. Rodimus could see the enticingly aroused valve clearly as Ratchet bowed his helm to lick a path through the assorted fluids drying quickly on his overheated frame. He raised floppy arms to paw uncoordinatedly at strong red hips, growling when Ratchet didn’t get the message fast enough.

“What the frag do you think you’re doing down there, Speed Racer?” Ratchet demanded, deliberately poking a finger into a ticklish spot on Rodimus’ side.

“Get. Up. Here.” Rodimus somehow got the words out around the overwhelming desire to have Ratchet’s valve over him. He could see his own ejaculate slowly dribbling out of Ratchet all mixed up with the medic’s own lubricant and he really, _really_ wanted to rediscover how they tasted when combined like that. “Get clean later.”

“Up where?” Ratchet asked, curiosity winning out temporarily over lust. He moving into Rodimus’ hands and following the vague directions.

“Your valve, my face. _Now_.” He needed it, needed it _now_. Needed Ratchet over and around him, needed to feel soft wet heat against his lipplates and bury himself between Ratchet’s thighs while the remains of their interfacing dribbled over him and his Field pulsed with overload again and again and again. “ _Please_ , wanna taste you. _Need_ to taste you.”

 

## ~V~V~V~

 

Well _that_ certainly lit a fire in his frame like nothing else that night. Rodimus was so desperate to eat him out that the speedster was actually whining a little as he pleaded with Ratchet to sit on his face.

“Alright, don’t strip your gears.” Ratchet obeyed the clumsy fumblings of the mech below him, moving up to straddle Rodimus’ face. “Here you go.”

Golden fingers hooked into the seams of his pelvic armour, pulling him down with surprising strength, mashing his valve into Rodimus’ faceplates. His knees slipped across the berth, forced wide by the flaring cheekpieces of Rodimus’ helm. The speedster’s engine growled with lust as Ratchet’s valve bore down on his faceplates with most of his weight behind it. Instead of pushing him away Rodimus pulled Ratchet closer, heated barrels of his flame jets brushing against the bottom of the medic’s wide thoracic frame as he slid his glossa through Ratchet’s slick folds.

[Frag yes, that’s what I’m talkin’ about] Rodimus commed, satisfaction filling his glyphs. [I hope you’re ready to get wrecked, old mech.]

“I’m getting lots of comm messages but not much wrecking.” Ratchet said, twitching as Rodimus latched onto his favourite external nub and sucked. “ _Frag_.”

It didn’t take him long to overload, spike discharging up the wall as Rodimus began lapping his valve in earnest, lips and glossa doing absolutely wicked things to both his external node clusters and the first few inches of his valve, burrowing through his folds without a care for the floods of lubricant oozing over him. Ratchet overloaded again just from thinking about what Rodimus could do with a glossa mod like the one Megatron had revealed.

Then he couldn’t think for a very long time, the speedster nuzzling and sucking at his valve array playing him like a master. Ratchet bucked and writhed, grinding  shamelessly against Rodimus’ face and receiving encouraging, appreciative comm messages in return. By now his spike was spurting clear carrier fluid when he overloaded, nanite reservoirs completely empty, their contents all over Rodimus, the berth below them and the wall he could only occasionally see through glitching optics.

Despite the number of overloads Ratchet had already achieved while riding the speedster’s spike Rodimus still didn’t quite manage to wreck him, but he came close. Low fuel level pings interrupted both of them and Ratchet called an end to the night, dragging the cover off Rodimus’ berth and giving his frame a brief wipe-down while Rodimus crawled off in search of energon. When he reappeared with fuel Ratchet attacked the laughing speedster with cleaning cloths as he drank one-handed.

“We need to get Percy to come up with an experiment where we find out how many overloads it takes to _really_ wear you out.” Rodimus mumbled into Ratchet’s audial, having pushed the ambulance back onto the berth and draped himself over the larger frame. “I wanna know.”

“Ask him in the morning.” Ratchet grumbled, slipping a hand over Rodimus’ mouth. “It’s recharge time now, you twisted little glitch.”

Rodimus smiled and nibbled gently at Ratchet’s fingers even as his exhausted frame started shutting down.

He wasn’t online long enough to feel Ratchet kiss his helm crest, murmuring glyphs too soft to be heard before initiating his own recharge sequence and following Rodimus into sleep.


End file.
